Don't Make Me Be Myself
by Victorian-Affair
Summary: Cassandra's seen the doctor's past, including every dark secret that he's hidden throughout the years. Now, he's using this knowledge to bend Jizabel to his will. How do you escape from someone who knows everything about you? Cassadra/Cassian x Jizabel.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N **__Hello there, welcome to our first collaborative story. If you read Jizabel and Cassian oriented stories then you have most likely seen us around before – Victorian-Affair is the joint penname for the loyal (obsessed) JizabelxCassian fans Savvi-Sin and Sorryll. Currently, we plan to write alternating chapters. Sorryll will be taking the odd numbers, while Savvi-Sin takes the even. But who knows how things will turn out XD Anyway, that's enough waffle. On with the first instalment._

_This story inspired by the song Blood On My Hands by The Used. The lyrics in this chapter are from there. We do not own this song, nor do we own these wonderful Victorian men._

_-x-_

_You felt the coldness in my eyes,  
It's something I'm not revealing._

Inside Jizabel's quarters, it looked as though it had been snowing broken glass.

The floor was covered in tiny shards that sparkled in the candlelight, while the wooden floor itself glistened, the light catching the formaldehyde and other preservatives that had spilled from the broken jars. From Jizabel's perspective - on his hands and knees, face close to the floor, sight partly obscured by a curtain of silvery hair – the scene was strangely beautiful. Even the twisted lumps of flesh that were unrecognisable now seemed to have their place, as though the chaos that had been raging a moment before had created a living piece of art, with the doctor himself as its centrepiece...

However, if anyone else had decided to enter the room, they would not have seen it as beautiful at all. They would have seen a mess. They would have seen a large mahogany bureau, once covered in neatly arranged glass jars with strange specimens suspended in clear liquid, all empty now. The jars were lying all over the floor and none of them were in one piece, where they had smashed as the doctor swept them off the bureau in a fit of rage. Other things in the room had fallen too, but Jizabel was entirely unaware that he had lost so much control. The scene, so beautiful to Jizabel, would have been frightening to anyone else.

Slowly, he picked himself up off of the floor and moved to lean against the bureau, heedless of the broken glass he was now resting on. Hands clenching the wood, he tried to gather himself together, to make some kind of rational sense out of the storm of emotions raging inside him. Fear, shame, anger...and sorrow, too. Although that had been there from the start.

He was shaking but it was starting to subside a little, his breathing starting to return to normal. But still he could hear a voice in his head. An insidious, mocking, almost _lecherous_ voice.

"_I can almost hear the cries of your older sisters' organs from within your body,"_ the voice whispered, and Jizabel shuddered as he recalled the words. He felt violated. He had known that the ritual would involve exposing his secrets but had never expected them to then be repeated back to him, although he should have guessed. The High Priest was _Cassandra_ after all. It was a horrible feeling, knowing that this one man knew about everything that Jizabel tried daily to forget, that this one man would no longer be fooled by Jizabel's permanently cold exterior and emotional detachment that served to hide a soul that was a raging fire of passion and emotion, of pain and insecurity. Jizabel had never wanted to show anyone even a hint of that fire and hated the idea that Cassandra had intruded and seen the whole raging inferno.

However, those words were not the reason why Jizabel had fled to his room and destroyed the only remaining ties to his mother and sisters. He had yelled angry words then, as though the organs themselves could hear and transmit the message to the woman who was now free from all of this and who had left her son behind. He had said, _"You can't save me."_ But from what? From _who_? Even as he asked himself the question, Jizabel knew the answer. Unbidden, the voice slipped back into his mind.

"_I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you..."_

"Leave me alone," Jizabel murmured, staring sightlessly before him.

_Fingers twining in his hair. "I know everything about you."_

Jizabel gripped the bureau so hard his knuckles turned white.

"_Come to my laboratory whenever you like. We can talk more then."_

"Never," Jizabel murmured, moving his arms to wrap them around himself in an uncharacteristically protective manner.

This was what terrified him. Not only did Cassandra know everything that had happened to him, he seemed to find it interesting, amusing, even...attractive? Jizabel knew the rumours that circulated about the Head Priest and now found it easy to believe they were all true. There had been something in Cassandra's gaze, something hungry, that Jizabel had been too conflicted to consider at the time. Cassandra was dangerous, that was certain. And now he had something with which to bend Jizabel to his will...

The doctor shook his head suddenly and dropped his arms to his sides. He smiled humourlessly at his own weakness and then crossed the room quickly. He stopped in front of a small wall-mirror and regarded his reflection apathetically. His eyes were red although he could not remember crying, his hair dishevelled and his clothes covered in formaldehyde. He changed quickly, then returned to the mirror and forced his breathing to slow, thinking of nothing except this moment and of no one but himself...and watched as the scared, childlike face before him shifted slowly into the familiar cold expression of the heartless doctor. He tied his hair back loosely and put his glasses back on. He smiled.

The illusion was perfect. He was good at disguises after all, and this was by far his best one. He looked heartless, logical, uncaring. A being who cared little for life, even his own...which suited his needs just fine. He knew that it wasn't truly who he was but it didn't matter, very few people saw through his disguise. It didn't matter who he was – this was who he wanted to be. He smiled one last time at the face of Death reflected before him and turned to leave.

He was feeling calmer already but to be sure that he wouldn't embarrass himself further, he decided to go and see whether Zenopia was in the study they shared in the medical wing of Delilah's headquarters. If he could just bury himself in facts and figures, he knew that all his worries would just vanish. He may still be a little shaky now, but it didn't matter if Zenopia realised something was wrong. The little man had no interest in whether Jizabel was happy, healthy or stable, as long as they were making scientific progress, nothing else concerned him. Jizabel liked the Hermit for this reason, it made him easy to deal with.

Jizabel crossed the room to the door, broken glass crunching under his feet and was shocked to find it open. Hoping no one had heard the crashing from inside his room echoing down the hall, Jizabel left swiftly and firmly shut the door behind him. He then turned and began to stride down the hall quickly, as though afraid of being seen.

"Doctor."

Jizabel wheeled around to see a small, dark figure sitting beside the door to his room. Cassian. The doctor quickly replaced his involuntary expression of surprise for one of anger.

"Cassian," he said, glad to find his voice was not still shaking. "What are you doing here?"

The trump card didn't answer, raising one eyebrow instead. Jizabel thought of berating him for impudence but another look at the small man convinced him not to. Cassian was sitting slumped against the wall and had clearly been there a long time, meaning he had been there listening while Jizabel raged inside his room. Yet, he didn't appear shocked, frightened or as though he was going to start threatening the doctor, which wouldn't have been a surprising choice in a place like Delilah. Instead, his knees were drawn up to his chest and his features were unmistakeably sad. Jizabel was surprised; he had never seen his subordinate this way before. Cassian was often angry or curious but never did he appear sad. Given the current state of his mind, Jizabel found it a little unnerving and so found himself speaking before he knew why.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked hesitantly.

Cassian clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I could ask you the same question."

Jizabel drew back at that, and scowled. "Why should you be interested?"

"I heard what Cassandra said to you," Cassian continued, dark eyes now boring into Jizabel's as if searching an answer for an unasked question. "I saw how he upset you. Why...why didn't you tell me?"

"I shouldn't have to tell you anything," Jizabel replied coldly, narrowing his eyes.

"You don't _have_ to tell me anything," Cassian said softly. "I just asked you why you _didn't_."

Jizabel opened his mouth to reply but shut it again quickly. He knew now why his usually bad-tempered assistant was acting so strange. It wasn't sorrow at all.

"I hope that's not pity I can see in your eyes, Cassian," he said quietly, turning to walk away. "After all, _you _are in a much more pitiable situation than I."

As he began to walk down the corridor, Jizabel did not dare to look behind him. He knew it was cruel to say such things but didn't really know why this was bothering him. He _was_ cruel. Cassian had overstepped his mark. It was almost as bad as Cassandra, almost the same feeling of violation. Pity was useless, wasted upon humans. Jizabel hated being the cause of such a sickening emotion. He increased his pace, hurrying to reach the medical wing. He was glad and a little surprised when Cassian didn't follow him.

In a few minutes he reached the long corridor which was home to the shared study and the familiar feeling of calm he associated with the place was shattered by a lean figure leaning against the wall. As Jizabel approached, deciding that retreating would be a far more foolish thing to do, the figure raised a hand in greeting and spoke in a silken voice.

"Jizabel. How nice to see you again."

Jizabel did not smile. "It has only been a short while since we last met, Cassandra," he said quietly. "It can't have been more than half an hour."

Cassandra laughed and took a step towards him. "I'm afraid you're wrong, there. It's been over an hour since we last spoke. What _have_ you been up to?"

Jizabel's eyes widened and he tried to smile disarmingly. "Ah, has it? I was...doing research. It's easy to lose time."

Cassandra smiled and draped an arm around Jizabel's slender shoulders. "Oh, is that the case? And here I was thinking you had been sitting in your room and brooding. I'm glad to hear I was mistaken. Remember Jizabel...if you _do_ need to brood about your past, feel free to come and see me."

Jizabel remained silent and stationary, not wanting to run away again and damage his pride any further but hating the situation nonetheless. Without waiting for an answer, Cassandra leaned forward so that his lips were inches from Jizabel's ear and smirked.

"You know what, Jizabel? Your mother _was_ beautiful, but her beauty is entirely overshadowed by your own." He raised a hand to twine his fingers once more in Jizabel's hair, who managed to suppress a shudder. "And do you know why that is? Your mother was openly terrified. Terrified and weak. Whereas you, Jizabel, are strong. Still terrified but...there is a certain..._elegance_ about the way you hide your fears. That makes you far more beautiful than her."

Jizabel turned his face away from Cassandra and but his lip nervously. He would not let the anger control him again, nor the fear. He could not give Cassandra that satisfaction.

"Why are you so interested in my past, Cassandra?" he asked softly, not really wanting an answer but just as a way to stop the taller man from talking. However, the answer he did receive chilled him.

"Why? Well, that's easy." Cassandra dropped his voice to a whisper. "I want to see the fear you hide in your soul shining out through your eyes. Is that so much to ask?"

Jizabel froze for a moment, trying to think of some remark that could both end the conversation and keep his pride intact. Finding none, he began to speak hurriedly and without direction.

"Right. I have to...some research I forgot...is...I must go."

Jizabel managed to wrench himself away from Cassandra's grasp and hurry down the hall without running, but he could hear Cassandra laughing behind him and knew he hadn't come out on top of this meeting either.

As he hurried away, Jizabel's mind was spinning. He was afraid. Cassandra truly was interested in his past and wanted to sue Jizabel for...for _what_? Some twisted pleasure? Jizabel didn't understand and didn't want to understand. He also felt anger pulsing through him as he ran, building with every step.

"_Your mother was openly terrified. Terrified and weak."_

"How dare you," Jizabel murmured to himself, "My mother was –"

He stopped himself. He didn't want to think about her. Never again.

Upon reaching his room, Jizabel was glad to see that Cassian was no longer sitting in the corridor like a curious shadow. He hurriedly pulled his door open, entered the room and shut it behind him, glad to be away from prying eyes at last. He took a few steps into the room that echoed against the wooden flooring and then froze.

There was no glass beneath his feet.

He raised his eyes slowly to see Cassian standing nervously in front of the bureau, a cloth that had presumably been used for cleaning in one hand. For a moment, Jizabel felt the unusual presence of gratitude in his mind but it was quickly smothered by anger at the pity still shining in Cassian's eyes.

"Get out," he said softly, his tone laced with danger. Cassian did not need to be told twice and left quickly without speaking.

Once he was gone, Jizabel sank back onto the floor and sat staring at the door, half-expecting it to open again and for either Cassandra or Cassian to come back in and intrude upon his privacy s they already were. He didn't know which scared him the most – Cassandra's blatant advances or Cassian's gentle prompts. He didn't want to open up, didn't _need_ to.

He just wanted to forget everything...but had the feeling that forgetting was one option not left open to him any longer. Two people now wanted to tear into his heart and draw out all the pain he worked so hard to hide. He closed his eyes and prayed that neither would succeed, wishing he could never leave this room again.

As he slowly fell asleep, the mask he made sure to wear whenever he was around others slipped away, leaving the scared child that was beneath open and vulnerable. And for the first time in years, that child felt lonely.

_**A/N **__Thanks for reading ^^ Please review if you enjoyed this, we appreciate them more than you know._


	2. Dreams and Nightmares

_Hey! It's Savvi-Sin writing this chapter. As Sorryll mentioned, we're trading off and apparently I have the even chapters! I tried to make it as long as chapter one, but it's a bit shorter. Not much though… Ok now I'm just rambling! Onward with the story!_

XXX

Though he may have wanted to shut her out of his thoughts completely, his dreams were left open for invasion. That night, as Jizabel slept, nightmarish visions of his mother and sisters plagued his mind.

"_Sing with us Jizabel…" _It was a reoccurring dream, one that he hadn't viewed since…since Cassandra had looked into his past. One that he never wished to see again.

Sunshine danced on the field as his sisters sang nursery rhymes. His mother was there too, but he couldn't see her eyes. He could never see her eyes. The sky grew dark and a voice over took his head.

"_They're made of something really scary, Jizabel!_" The nightmare changed to something different.

He saw himself, running. He was dressed as a girl for some reason. The only noise was his breath, escaping his lips in desperate bursts. There was a scream.

"_He's captured mother!_" the voice was a younger version of his own. Rustling of leaves as he turned around to see Alexis standing before him.

"_I'm going to be your father from now on_..." His voice was as soft as Jizabel remembered it being all those years ago. In his dream, he spun around, and the scenery had changed once more.

"_I could be killing thousands of microscopic organisms each time I breathe_!" The memories flooded his mind faster now, for soon the picture in front of him changed again.

He was laying in bed after surgery, he blinked and he was in his father's study, looking at various items floating in jars.

"_So now I've kept my promise to you…did you enjoy Snark, Jizabel?..._" The scene began to spin, spiraling into darkness. The last words he heard before waking up were his own.

"_It's almost like being loved…_"

He awoke with a small cry, eyes wide open. His breathing was ragged and thin, but soon began to steady. Jizabel sat up, slipping on a silk robe that hung from the post of his bed, then fell back to the mattress. A dream. It had only been a dream…well a nightmare really. He absent mindedly ran a hand through his hair, but quickly yanked it back. The pain from the cuts on his hands reminded him that parts of yesterday evening were _not_ just a dream. He scowled, forgetting the cold, unfeeling exterior he'd had up until last night.

There were a series of slices and gashes on his hands and fingers. A few still had bits of glass stuck in them. Jizabel winced, pulling some of them out, then it was back to standing in front of the mirror.

It would not be inaccurate to say that he was a perfect mess. The tiny cuts that had been on his arms and hands the night before suddenly seemed much more severe. There were dark circles under his eyes, a clear indication that he hadn't gotten enough, if any, sleep. Just like last night his hair was in tangles, some of the longer strands covered his right eye. He shook them out of his face. Even though Cassian had taken the liberty of cleaning his room last night an air of formaldehyde still hung stagnant in the air.

Jizabel opened the window, expecting sunlight to pour in, but instead thunder rumbled in the distance. It was still dark out, but he wasn't sure if it was from the approaching storm or if it was from the fact that it was early in the morning. In either case he noted that no animals were there to greet him as per usual. He frowned, still caught between the mask of composure he always wore, and that scared child he had been the previous night.

Jizabel examined the cuts again, determining that he should probably put some bandages on them and wear gloves the rest of the day. Destroying his "collection" wasn't something he'd really thought over, and now, as he settled back into being a "composed, serious, emotionless doctor" he felt foolish.

A clock rang in the hour from somewhere down the hall. 5:00, it was 5:00 in the morning and it was blatantly clear that Jizabel Disraeli was _not _going to get any more sleep than he already had. On the one hand, it was a relief, no more sleep meant no more nightmares…but on the other hand sometimes reality was worse.

His bare feet didn't make a sound as he walked quickly back to the medical wing of Delilah's headquarters. No one was up yet, or so he hoped. As he walked, however, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed. Perhaps that was still the child in him.

The door to the medical wing opened on creaking hinges, and he cautiously went inside, looking behind him to be sure that he wasn't being followed. He should have been looking in front of him however, for no more than two steps in did he run into the last person on earth he'd wanted to see.

"Doctor…what are you doing here?" it was Cassian. Jizabel cursed silently, before instinctively pulling the robe he had on tighter around his body. "It's five in the morning, shouldn't you be asleep?" His assistant's gaze fell to the doctor's hands, but he didn't say anything as Jizabel had expected him to. Secretly, he almost wanted Cassian to speak. Almost.

"What are you doing awake this early?" his voice sounded more defensive than he'd have liked it to.

"I'm always awake this early."

"Oh…" Jizabel said quietly. "If you'll excuse me." He pushed past the other man, retrieving bandages from one of the shelves that lined the walls, and haphazardly began to unroll them. Some dropped to the floor, and Cassian instantly picked them up, and handed them to him. The doctor snatched them back.

"What are you still doing here?" he said, frowning and beginning to wrap one of the cuts on his hand with no success.

"I'm helping you." Cassian muttered, picking up the bandages from the floor for a second, and then third time after that. "You really do know how to make a mess of things." Trying to wrap bandages around cuts on his right hand with his left hand was proving to be extremely difficult. Lack of sleep wasn't helping either.

"Just…go, will you!?" he finally snapped after his assistant handed him the fifth bandage he'd dropped. A few of the wounds were somewhat wrapped, although when Jizabel bent his fingers they quickly came undone again. Cassian rolled his eyes, disobeying his superior for once.

"If I go now you're going to leave another bloody mess of things!" his voice grew louder. Before Jizabel could protest, Cassian had yanked his hand closer, holding his wrist steady as he examined the series of cuts. "You really should have taken care of these last night." He muttered, pulling out another tiny shard of glass. The doctor sat on a chair while Cassian sat on another, holding Jizabel's arm on his lap. Jizabel winced, and prayed that the other man didn't notice that his mask was falling off once more. The doctor mentally kicked himself for acting so childish, the pain of a few pieces of glass was nothing…then why did everything suddenly hurt so much?

"Doctor…I asked you a question…" Cassian's voice pulled him back from his thoughts. He felt the fabrics bandages tighten around the last of the cuts. Still, he didn't let go of his wrist.

"Pardon?" he said, pulling his arm away from his assistant. No such luck escaping the extremely awkward situation he found himself in, for Cassian only tightened his grip.

"I asked you why you destroyed your collection." Jizabel did his best to put up a wall between them. He absolutely was _not _going to let Cassian know anything. He already had one person who seemed to think that they knew everything about him, and he certainly didn't need two.

But…At the same time, a part of him wanted to tell, to cave in and tell someone other than Cassandra everything he was feeling. He wanted to cry and let everything he'd kept inside all of those years out. Something about the thought of telling Cassian made him strangely happy. Of course, he'd never admit this, even to himself.

"You wouldn't understand." Were the words that escaped his lips, but they weren't exactly the ones he's wanted to say.

"Well…maybe I would. I mean, if you told me." What Cassian, his moody, and almost equally cold assistant did next was the second to last thing Jizabel ever expected. He released his grip on the doctor's pale wrists and tilted his head up so that their eyes met. He had to do something…anything to keep from having another mental breakdown.

"Why is it that you _pity _me?" he said, tone turning from innocent and scared to icy and laced with venom.

"I don't!" Cassian snapped back in return.

"Do not lie to me, Cassian. I know that's the only reason you're helping me…and it makes me sick." The words were eerily calm, but for some reason, it made Jizabel feel sad after saying them. "Like I said last night, you're in a much more pitiable situation than I am."

"You're avoiding the question, doctor." The older man said, pretending to be unaffected by the words that his superior had just spoken. "Why did you make such a mess of things last night. I can't read your mind."

"Why do you care…?" for a second time that morning, his voice sounded more childish than he'd have liked it to.

"Why _don't _you." He replied, eyes downcast. "I-,…I've seen the way Cassandra looks at you…and I know that you're intimidated by him…What did he say to you?" A feeling of sudden fear spread through him, a feeling of sudden helplessness. What would Cassian do if he ever _did_ tell him what Cassandra had said or about the threats he had made?

"I can take care of myself, Cassian. I think it's time you left now." Jizabel turned away from the other man, but not for more than a moment. Cassian grabbed his shoulder, and turned Jizabel back around to face him.

"How do you know that I wouldn't understand unless you tell me…doctor…"

This time he didn't hesitate to reach up and gently touch the young doctor's cheek. Cassian's hand were warm, which only reminded him of the nightmare he's had. This wasn't the same warm as blood, though. No, it reminded him of his father's arms before that day when his world came crashing down over him. Again, he felt tears threatening, but this time, he couldn't blink them back. A few slipped from his eyes, running over Cassian's fingers. He wanted to get mad, and scream at his assistant to get out. He wanted to continue to hide behind the mask that was so fool proof up until that moment. At the same time, he wanted nothing more but to stand there with Cassian…forever.

Cassian wiped away some of the tears, and not aware of his actions stood on his tip-toes. His lips hovered a few inches away from the other man's, both of their hearts beating out of control. Hands entwined in Jizabel's hair, but this time he didn't pull away…until he heard a voice from the open doorway.

"My, my, my...now what have we here?" Jizabel could only stare in sheer terror as Cassandra gazed back at him, smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, in addition to Sorryll and Savvi, I, SuniLaMoon have also joined in on this collab. We'll still be switching off, although now it will alternate between the three of us. **

**So, I 'spose I'm here with my chapter. ^^**

**Hope it's satisfactory. xD;;  
**

* * *

Jizabel swallowed, his eyes falling from Cassandra's piercing gaze to the floor, then back up again, at a complete loss for words. Anything he said would probably fan the fire, and, aside from that, he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't vomit if he opened his mouth then. He stumbled back from Cassian, his body teetering and his hand searching behind him for a source of balance, which happened to be the back of a chair.

He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he had pushed Cassian away roughly the moment he heard Gladstone speak.

"Rather intimate, aren't we?" Cassandra remarked, an eyebrow raised as he remained leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed smugly.

"Whatever warped scenario _you_ thought you saw-"

"Thought? You imply I'm getting ahead of myself," Cassandra remarked, cutting off Cassians words, "My eyes do not deceive me..." He paused, turning his attention back to Jizabel at last, who stood closer to the corner, his hand still gripping the chair for support, Cassian noticing him jump slightly as Cassandra spoke to him. "Well, I never expected you to be the type, Jizabel...."

His face was partially hidden under the grey tresses, and he raised his eyes briefly at Cassandra, feeling just the smallest bit safer that the older man could not see _his_ face. Although it wasn't of that much condolence, he could see that look in his eyes again, that predatory gleam as he took a step closer. "....Really, it makes me wonder why you're so shy around me."

"Leave him be."

"I do not take my orders from trump cards... Besides, that is more up to Jizabel, who's company he keeps."

"Go, Cassian." The tension had both built and ceased when Jizabel spoke up, finally raising his head slightly to face Cassandra, his mask back on. Not perfect, yet still passable, still devoid of emotion.

Cassian grit his teeth, a fury coursing through his body, though the line between true anger and frustration was somewhat intangible. He didn't know what to feel, apart from that steady burn and... was it fear?

"Doctor, you can't really mean-"

"Get. Out," Jizabel murmured. The 'boy' swallowed, taking a step backwords, "Out! I don't want your pity, I am not even sure what you pity me for...." his hand shook on the edge of the chair, blood soaking through part of the bandage as his cuts were re-opened, "...Now, I have many things I must discuss with Head Priest Cassandra."

Cassians eyes narrowed for a moment, and an involuntary chill running down Jizabels spine as he realized both Cassandra and his assistant were looking at him with two very different, yet eerily similar, mindsets.

"Can you not even obey your own superior?" Cassandra added, as he uncrossed his arms, strolling closer to rest his hand on the chair next to Jizabels. "Be on your way, then... Isn't it abit late for a boy your age to be up, anyway?" he added with a chuckle, adding insult to injury.

Cassandra's views didn't matter, Cassian could still feel the pain radiating under that mask... He knew Jizabel didn't want him to leave, at least not to be left alone with _that_ sick man.

"Doctor...." Cassian faltered, saddened again by Jizabels distance, by the thick and cold walls he had built up again, and afraid of what would happen were he to leave. _And how much did Cassandra hear...? _"Doctor... Jizabel, please, you don't have to-"

The breath was knocked from his lungs, as he felt two hands push roughly against his chest, knotting into the fabric of his shirt, and a chill ran down his spine as Cassandra leaned closer.

"Didn't I tell you to leave?"

_Don't threaten him, don't even move..._

He swallowed, glancing briefly at Jizabel, who had backed further into the room, then back at Cassandra, hoping he wouldn't notice.

_Make him angry and he'll just take it out on the kid, do you want that....?_

Cassian's hand relaxed, and he slid it out of his pocket, despite the raging fire that told him to draw the blade. At the same time, Cassandra's grip slackened, and he stood upright again with a sneer on his face, freely showing his disgust in even _touching_ someone so below his stature.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence and heartbeats, he left, the door closing softly behind him, and his footsteps disappearing into the hallway. Jizabels throat felt dry, his chest pounding involuntarily as he looked past Cassandra at the closed door. Still, the mask never dropped. It was stone cold, blank, an emotionless slate despite the condition he was in.

Cassian was gone now, that short moment of confusion, frustration and.... and warmth, comfort.... It was over, and the useless assistant had left him alone in that mans hands, even closing the door behind him.

He knew what Cassandra was thinking, he recognized that the gleam in his eyes was some twisted lust, and he was the focus of it all, and yet... He wanted to fight that truth, for his own _sanity_ he wanted desperately to fight that truth.

And, in no way, did he wish to be left alone with him, with the door closed. There was no victory in sight in such a situation, he knew nobody would come to his aid, and he didn't want the pity anyway.... He especially didn't want anyone to see him if...

Cassandra crossed the room silently, reaching to the door, and Jizabel's face paled as he heard the lock click.

He swallowed, clenching his fist and cringing abit, looking down and opening his hand to finally notice the blood seeping through, and the bandages rubbing uncomfortably against his open flesh.

"Tch, tch.... You've made quite a mess of yourself, haven't you, Jizabel?" The words rolled off his tongue, each more aggressive then the next as he returned to the doctor's side, and pressed himself closer to the younger man, his hand intertwining with Jizabel's as he nudged his lips against his neck. He couldn't breath. All involuntary functions of his body seemed to be slowing down, his legs feeling shaky, his breath caught in his throat, his heart twisting.... his lungs.... _her lungs_.... the pain in his chest that could not be equaled. And, furthermore, that mans voice.... his eyes.... He could remember when his father had that tone, on that day that his mother had....

He drew in a sharp breath, as Cassandra slid his other hand across Jizabels neck, slipping it below the edge of his yukata.

"What are you....?" His voice was below a whisper, most strength he had lost. And it had not even been a day yet.

Not even a day since Cassandra had first forced himself into his head.... And now.... Now he couldn't distinguish any border between Cassandras own powers and his pathetic weakness.

He was tired... Confused, but more predominantly, tired. It was true that somewhere, in some hazy corner, he could fully understand what Cassandra had in mind.... But that part of him, which had drifted into subconsciousness, could only scream to be rid of his touch.

At that moment, however...

"Have you never been touched in this way....?" Cassandra's hand pulled out of the flowing fabric, and began tracing a line across his collar bone, his other hand grasping Jizabels tighter. "My Jizabel...."

He swallowed, remembering the words that snake had spoken just hours before....

Was he showing fear _now_? Was he giving him what he wanted?

_I'm not yours..._

"Now, It isn't my concern what you and that trump card were engaged in...." Cassandra murmured, his hand lowering again, this time drawing a soft line down Jizabels chest toward his waist, "...Yet ....I can't _help_ but show concern when someone of such low standing... is making advancements on someone like _you_...." Jizabels breath hitched as Cassandra maneuvered his hand under the tie at his waist.

_No more._

"I just think you deserve... better...."

_....Stop!_

Cassandra stood, slack-jawed, infront of Jizabel, his hand brushing across the thin scratch on the side of his face... apparently stunned by the others actions, as he looked down at the blood left on his fingers. Jizabels breathing was irregular, a bloodied scalpel still in his hand, which he'd snatched off of a tray that had been sitting on the table. Although he could feel his mind coming back down from that distant, hazy, place, he still couldn't say he felt like himself. He was far too uneasy to feel like himself, and he had a more than strong suspicion that Gladstone had been working his hypnosis into that assault.

Cassandra scowled, stepping towards Jizabel again, who's hand only gripped the scalpel tighter, and slowly began circling him.

"Feisty, aren't you..." He remarked, with fascination rather then anger, despite the mark that the doctor had left him with, "I can't say I expected that, you're always so composed...." He took a final step, now directly behind Jizabel, with only a few inches separating them again, "...Perhaps this won't take as long as I'd thought."

Jizabel gasped, as Cassandra knocked the scalpel from his hand, twisting his arm around to pin it behind his back at a painful angle. And, with little pause between actions, it only took another warningless shove for Jizabel to find his face pressed against the tile, one arm still behind his back where Cassandra held it, as he pinned him to the floor.

"Oh my.... you look worried?" Gladstone murmured with a smile, before roughly rolling Jizabel over to face him, straddling his waste, and moving both his hands to a restrained position above his head.

Jizabel looked away, the idea of looking into that mans eyes almost shameful... He truly feared that gleam now, and, more so, he feared Cassandras reactions to that fear.

Gladstone leaned in closer, using his free hand to pull the front of Jizabels robe open, ignoring the small whimper that unwillingly escaped the doctors mouth. The same hand began to caress his body in an icy touch, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

And the worst of this experience; he knew there was nobody willing to help him.

His father had abandoned him long ago, and not a soul in this organization could give a damn what was happening to others... Then again, he knew such care could not be found in any human. Then there was Cassian....

He swallowed... fighting off the urge to cry was common in his world, it was something he did almost each day, he wouldn't let himself break now. Not for Cassandra, and not after what had happened earlier. He could still feel Cassians hand on his face, wiping back the silent tears....

It had been Cassians fault he was here to begin with.

And It didn't even _matter_ if anyone would help him.... The shame of being caught like this would be unbearable.

....So why was he praying Cassian would come back in?

"Your heart is beating so fast now...." Cassandra murmured, tracing a finger across Jizabels chest, before licking in the same area, and nipping briefly at his nipple.

"S-stop..."

Cassandra lifted his head, looking back towards the terrified creature under him.

"Are you begging? I thought you had more pride then that," he muttered, twisting his hand tighter around the doctors wrists, eliciting a sharp cry as he scraped against the cuts, "You'd never give in to your dear father like this...."

He was right.... This was pathetic. What was wrong with him...?

He traced back up Jizabel's body, his finger drawing a line over his ribcage, before finally coming up to the black cross that lay against his cold skin. He paused for a moment, feeling the intricate details of the black crystals, even lifting it slightly. "....And you never take it off, do you?" He remarked, in a semi-disgusted tone, as he jerked the chain, though not hard enough to break it.

"Do you really believe what he said when he gave it to you....?" Cassandra asked, as he toyed with the crucifix in his hand, and, after deciding he'd get no response, he murmured under his breath, "You crave that pain, don't you...?"

He felt Cassandra's hand finally let go of his wrists, sliding down to stroke across his face, his pale lips, stopping as he reached his neck. He could feel those tormenting fingers tighten around his throat, constricting just enough to make his breathing difficult, though not impossible.

This alone was exhilarating for Cassandra, the bandaged hands that snapped to his own, trying to push him off, the younger mans bare chest heaving as he tried to pull air into those lungs, his hair sprawled out over the tile floor... the warmth of the body that the Head Priest was straddling. It thrilled him, perhaps even more then the prostitutes he brought home... it left him wanting more, although he had to hold back, had to remind himself to make his newest toy last.

"Do you want me to stop...?" Cassandra murmured, dipping down lower, to whisper directly into Jizabel's ear, putting extra weight against his throat in the process. "...I will under one condition."

He exhaled as he finished his words, although the hot breath against Jizabel's neck was not nearly as unsettling as the feel of Cassandra's tongue drawing a line down the edge of his ear. Jizabel was slowing down now, one of his hands slipping away from Cassandra's, the other still fighting... His head feeling lighter.

Gladstone had no intention of killing him, not now, no, not ever.... He just wanted to come close, to imagine him at his weakest, his frailest... To see himself reflected in those cold eyes, in fear, and in desperation. To hear him forced to spill his darkest secrets, to watch him break and surrender to his touch. His grin broadened, and he turned Jizabels head to face him, this time licking away the few salty tears that had unwillingly fallen from the doctors eyes.

"...Well, you know what that condition is, don't you?"

Yes, of course he knew full well what that bastard wanted him, the way he skillfully avoided saying it was all the more sickening. Afterall, Gladstone was a _gentleman_.... Would it be better to just give in? Let him have his way and.... No, the blood obviously wasn't reaching his head anymore, death was a better option then-

Much less gracefully then they'd wrapped around his neck, he could feel Cassandra's hand jerk away, and the weight lift from his waist as the older man stood abruptly, his eyes set on the door knob as it jiggled.

"...Death? Are you in there?" They both recognized the voice on the other side as Zenopia's, and although he had picked an odd time to wander down to the medical wing, Jizabel was relatively thankful for the encounter.

Cassandra cursed under his breath pacing towards the door, and shooting a sharp glare at Jizabel... And, after Zenopia tried the knob a second time, Jizabel still not rising, Cassandra stomped briskly back to him, pulling him up roughly by the arm, which would leave almost as defined a bruise the next morning as the one on his neck.

Taking Cassandra's que, still horribly shaken from the whole experience, he tied his robe closed again, as best he could, and unlocked the door, cracking it slightly to look down at Zenopia's usually peculiar face.

"I'd thought I heard someone in here, isn't it a little late...?" The elder man mumbled, pushing the door open further and wandering past Jizabel in a B-line to one of the shelves. "...Or, I suppose it's _early, _I lost track of time, didn't sleep at all, too much to do, never enough time in a day to do it..."

Jizabels left hand was still resting on the door frame, his right rubbing the mark on his neck, before wrapping it uncharacteristically around his body, holding his robe closed. The room still felt tense, constricting, yet he'd never been more thankful to hear Zenopia's endless prattle, that tedious chatter had been the only thing to save him.

The Hermit grabbed a few books and jars off of the shelf, finally turning around to notice Cassandra, who was still brooding over the short old man's presence. "Oh, Head Priest Cassandra..." He paused, glancing at one of his books to make sure it was the correct one, before looking back at Jizabel, "...Was I interrupting something?" He asked, apparently oblivious to the situation between the two.

"No," Jizabel murmured, unpleasantly surprised by how shaky the word came out, "The Head Priest had requested a word with me in private, but I was just on my way out...." His voice rested somewhere between his earlier panic, and the calculating tone he normally used. He could care less what Zenopia thought, it didn't matter as long as he could use this time to slip out. Zenopia raised an eyebrow, before strolling past Cassandra without a word, and coming to stand near Jizabel.

"Well then..." He said, balancing the two books and the jar under his left arm as he pulled the door open completely, "If that's the case, why don't you accompany me, there are some things _I_ would like to discuss with you."

Jizabel nodded, somewhat surprised at just how much Zenopia was accidently being of aid, and stepped out of the room. The Hermit stood in the doorway momentarily, apparently pondering something, before looking back up to Cassandra. "Pleasant seeing you, Lord Gladstone." He said, with a quaint nod, before backing out of the room and closing the door silently.

There was not a word between them, as they walked down the hallway towards the wing that the Major Arcana shared. The only noises were their own footsteps, and Zenopia's blissful humming, both Jizabel was thankful for, the sounds were enough to keep him distracted. He was still frightened, now more so than before, and the frail little boy inside of him was breaking down to a degree that the mask could not hide. He swallowed, a chill coming over him as he pulled the robe tighter around his body, unable to keep Cassandra's words, _his touch_, from his mind.

"What was it that you wished to discuss with me....?" he murmured finally, praying that some conversation could protect him from the fear consuming him, block it out, if only for a few minutes.

"To be honest, nothing." He responded in a flat tone, continuing to hum as soon as he was done speaking. Something akin to a gasp escaped Jizabel throat as he turned his head to look at the older man, who appeared completely serious.

"You told me earlier that you had...."

"You looked far from comfortable in there, and most everyone here knows how our High Priest is."

Jizabel felt a twinge of anger... So it was happening already? Was everyone jumping to their own conclusions of what his relationship with Cassandra was? He cursed himself, the worst of it was that if they were.... If they were, they were correct. But Zenopia? He was supposed to be the logical one, someone similar to himself, not a man to dwell on the affairs of others.

Zenopia frowned, knowing full well that if Jizabel didn't say something immediately he would not respond at all. And, after shifting his books under his other arm, he continued, "Well, I'm unaware of what you have been caught up in, but you look dreadful. I thought you should return to your quarters, lie down.... I can't have you falling ill on me. We have a deadline, you know."

Why hadn't he been telling the truth? If only he actually had something to discuss, perhaps related to their research, the deadly dolls, Mikaila.... _Something._ If that were the case, he could have drowned himself in it... He could have felt safe, knowing that Cassandra would not go near him at that time. Zenopia had almost built his hopes up, whatever one could call 'hopes', but now it just pity and false concern.... Now they'd reached the door to Zenopia's quarters, and he knew full well he was supposed to keep on walking, down to his room, get dressed, and go about his day as if nothing had happened.

Perhaps he could lock himself away for awhile, and The Cardmaster would not notice? He scoffed at the thought.... Notice? Not care was the more accurate term, and he knew that more than anyone.

And so, after parting ways with The Hermit, he continued down the hall at a quickened pace, determined to get back to the sanctuary of his own room, as if Cassandra was right behind him.

* * *

It was a manner of minutes before he reached his bedroom, and, with little hesitation, he turned the knob and slipped in, sliding the lock into place behind him, and letting out a sigh of relief. He bit his lip, sliding down the door into a seated position, and-

"...Doctor?"

He jerked his head up in surprise to see Cassian by the window, primarily concerned as to why he had not noticed him there before.... and even more uncomfortable, given the conditions under which they had last seen eachother.

_"How do you know I wouldn't understand unless you tell me.... Doctor?"_

"....Cassian.... Why are you here?" he asked breathily, in a tone just barely above a whisper.

Cassian stepped away from the windowsill, taking careful steps in Jizabels direction. Although the doctor himself wasn't aware of it, Jizabel was shivering considerably more than he realized, and Cassian could only think to compare him to a cornered animal... terrified, and highly defensive.

"Doctor?" He repeated, kneeling as he came within a few feet of the younger man. "...Yes, Cassian?" he responded, and although his voice was not shaking, it sounded terribly weary.

Cassians throat felt dry, as he crawled a few inches closer to the other man, lifting his hand warily, and, after deciding it felt appropriate to do so, he slid it under Jizabels chin, lifting his head to face him. "...Did he.... hurt you?" he asked carefully, knowing he was treading on thin ice. There was a distant, almost hazy, look in the younger mans eyes as he lifted his own hand to Cassian's wrist, pushing him away. He swallowed, willing himself into sounding at least somewhat composed.

"No. We just spoke."

Cassian emitted a quiet gasp, knowing Jizabels tone all too well. "You're lying."

"What would I have to lie about?

"What did he do to you?"

Jizabel cringed, a small whimper inadvertently escaping his throat. The pressure he'd felt before made all the worse by recent events. Now what did Cassian want? Did he wish for him to vomit every twisted detail of his childhood onto the floor? Did he want him to describe to him what _Cassandra_ wanted? What Cassandra had _done_ to him? The latest defilement was Cassian's fault to begin with, and now he was asking what had occurred...?

Cassian's eyebrows were furrowed as he slid closer to Jizabel, separating the distance between them and sitting with his back against the door, the same way the younger man was. Honestly, the doctors state of mind was scaring him. He'd never seen Jizabel this fragile, this vulnerable. He felt sickened that he'd even left earlier, that he hadn't stood up to Cassandra and taken Jizabel away from him.

_"Well, I never expected you to be the type, Jizabel...."_

That man was sick. He had told himself that before, as soon as the ritual had ended. He'd even "accidentally" knocked the candelabra from the balcony to distract him, to get his hands off of the poor kid... Cassian certainly had a few idea's as to what Cassandra desired, and none of them gave him any peace of mind now.

".... You really can tell me... If you want." He whispered, bringing his knee's up to his chest, with a feeling he would be there for awhile. He had never found comforting to be his strong suit, but he could try. It was almost seven o'clock now, morning light peeking in through the open window and casting several distinct beams across the floor, and he knew that the rest of Delilah would soon be stirring.

"...Cassian?"

The "boy" raised his head, to look at Jizabel, who'd assumed a similar posture, his knees pulled close to him, and his arms still wrapped around his body instinctually. Though, unlike Cassian, his face was not hidden, but staring across the room to the open window, listening to the faint sounds of birds stirring outside.

"Yes?" Cassian replied, watching him, almost lost in those pained eyes of his.

"...Is that true?"

Cassian sighed, his expression of concern fading to something softer as he leaned across and brushed his hand over Jizabels cheek as he'd done earlier.

"Of course."

* * *

**LKFJQJFGQKGJ.... Ehh.... Can't say I was too pleased, but what can ya do. R&R, and I hope our readers are still enjoying this.**


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